RIDE: The Complete Delancey Brothers Trilogy (27 page)

And I liked to travel light.

Material possessions didn't mean anything to me. I had a handful of worn in clothes. A phone, my boots and my bike. That's it. I moved from place to place when the urge struck me.

And it struck often.

Nothing had any permanence in this life and that's the way I liked it. Easy come, easy go. I had a take it as it comes attitude when it came to clothes, personal belongings, friends and women.

Especially women.

In fact, I had just taken off from my last apartment when Suzy, one of the girls who hung around the bar I worked in, got a little too clingy. Hell, she got a lot too clingy. She'd started acting like she was my girlfriend.

I snorted. A girlfriend. That was a laugh. I didn't believe in relationships.

Hell, I didn't believe in much of anything.

A good beer, a good meal, a good lay. That and the feeling of my bike between my legs, hugging the road, riding like the wind. I liked to go fast.

I got a lot of traffic tickets. But that was okay. I could afford it.

Hell, the family lawyer was on retainer whether I used him or not. As aggravating as my family was at times, that lawyer had come in handy after a bar fight or twelve. Especially the time I broke a guys jaw for hitting a woman in the parking lot.

That was one fight I never regretted, no matter how much it cost my old man.

I had been at the end of my shift and enjoying a cold beer and a smoke out back when I heard it. A guy had been smack talking his woman. It had quickly progressed to him laying hands to her, roughing her up and more than just a little.

I had come to the lady's defense. Just doing the right thing. Nothing more, nothing less. But by the next morning, the lady had been singing a different tune. She'd said my attack was unprovoked, even saying that her bruises came from getting in the way of the scuffle.

That was the part the pissed me off. Her saying I had actually caused some of the marks. Accidentally of course. Even a scam artist wouldn't go so far as to say I hit a woman. Nobody on Earth would buy that.

I had a reputation, but not
that
kind of reputation.

From gratitude to gold digging in just a few hours.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Hell, even if I knew in advance what would happen, I would have done it anyway. The feeling of pounding in the face of a no good woman beater was worth it, and then some.

But still, the lady could have told the truth instead of trying to take advantage.

That's what always happened. As soon as they'd found out who I was, who my family was, the gold diggers started swinging their pick axes. Nothing made me more disgusted than someone who was after my family's money.

Nobody robbed the Delancey's. It was a point of pride, even for me, the black sheep who'd turned my back on it. All seven billion of it.

Oh yeah, I'd walked away from all that dough without a backward glance.

I didn't want a cent of it for myself. I was a firm believer in living off what you made with your hands. Of course, I was also a firm believer in working as little as possible.

That's why Jake Delancey, youngest son of the richest family in the state of Tennessee, was a bartender.

I smiled to myself.

Sometimes I wasn't even that. I'd been bar back more than once. I didn't really care one way or the other.

But, oooeeee, it sure pissed off my folks. And that was what I was after really, wasn't it? Punishing them for what they'd done to me.

What they'd believed.

I took the winding road through the expensive suburbs of Brentwood out to where the houses started to thin out and farms and ranches took over. As I crested a hill I could see it; Delancey Stables.
 

Home sweet home.

I nearly snorted. As if I'd called it home for more than a weekend since I'd been shipped off to military school at the tender age of twelve. I'd barely been back in all that time. But now I'd been summoned by my eldest brother Jackson. Not that I wasn't tempted to ignore such a high handed demand.
 

Just like I'd ignored all the other missives I'd gotten over the years.

This time it was different though.

This time, our Dad was sick. I wanted to be there, even if was just to argue with the old man. It would probably perk him up to yell at me a couple times.

I was practically penicillin.

Not to mention I was tired.

It was starting to feel like I'd run out of places to go. I wanted to come home, if only to remind myself why the hell I ran in the first place. And it would make the servants and my brother Daniel happy to see me at Christmas.

Home for the holidays.

What a joke.

Elle

"Damnit all to hell!"

I was bent over, picking up the shards of broken china. I was stacking clean plates between shifts. The plates were still scorching hot, which is why I'd dropped one in the first place.

"Tsk tsk."

I glanced up to see Shirley staring at me.

"Best not let Mr. Peabody hear you talk that way, girl. He'll dock your pay."

I stood up, brushing my hands off on the skirt of my uniform.

"Yeah well he didn't hear me now, did he? Sorry Shirl, I'm just having a day."

Shirley clucked her tongue sympathetically and bent down to help.

"Here, I'll hold the dust pan for you."

I nodded and grabbed the broom.

"Thanks Shirl. I don't know what I would do without you."

I meant it too. When I arrived in Nashville without a work visa, no one would hire me. It was a lucky break and a band that was looking for a singer on Craigslist that started all of this. Not only had I gotten a gig with a killer band, but everything else had fallen into place.

More or less.

Mark the bassist's sister had been looking for a roommate. That's how I met Shirley. Now we shared a sweet little apartment outside of Nashville. That led to befriending my roommate and eventually to landing this job.

They didn't even bother to check my papers when I applied. Shirl said that's because the Country Club relied on illegals to do so much of the grunt work on the golf course. And thank God for it too.

Otherwise God only knew what would I would be doing to survive. After the first week in the youth hostel I'd been relying on extra crackers and a cup of soup to make it through most days. Things had been dire to say the least.

I'd known coming to America was a risk. But as a singer, I'd been irresistibly drawn to Nashville. The center of the music industry. There was a reason they called it 'Music City U.S.A.'.

Not that I sang country. Not exactly. My style was a bit edgier, a bit more rock and roll. But my voice blended beautifully in the country style. And since I'd known my share of heartbreak, I could sing country with the best of them.

Life may have been hard but the music had always been there for me.

Born to a single mom in a poor as dirt part of the Irish countryside, I had grown up hard and fast. The former mining town had one restaurant, owned by my mother's brother, Uncle Dave. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dave, my mother and I wouldn't have been able to eat, let alone live. As it was, my mum was a waitress slash cook slash cleaning lady. I had worked alongside her since I could walk.

Good old fashioned childcare my mother had called it, with a wry wink. For no matter how hard life had gotten, my beautiful mother had never stopped smiling. Or singing while she worked. My mother's voice was one of the prettiest I'd ever heard.

I was still trying to live up to my mother's example. I did my best not to complain, work hard and to make the best of the cards I'd been dealt. And when I made it big, my mother would never have to work again. I would buy her a big house, with a maid and a cook. And she could live anywhere she wanted in the whole world.

Hopefully somewhere near me. The French Countryside... or Los Angeles... or even here in Nashville. In one of those big fancy houses that lined to roads around the country club.

Anything was possible as my mother liked to say. I believed it too. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, risking my meager savings on a plane ticket and a dream.

I just had to get heard by the right people and it would happen. I knew it. With my voice and drive, I knew it was only a matter of time.

Looking like a blow up doll didn't hurt either.

Huge green eyes and dark hair marked me as Irish for anyone who looked. And plenty did. My skin was pale as milk and unmarred, other than a tattoo high on my right hip. My long dark hair and plentiful curves meant that I was forever fighting off the unwanted advances of men.

As if I had time for the opposite sex.

They could bend over backwards for me for all I cared. It wouldn't make a bit of difference. I'd never been tempted to take anyone up on their offers of a soft and cushy life as a rich man's arm candy.

I could care less what I looked like, as long as it helped me on the road to stardom.

Someday I'd be a guest at places like this place instead of the help, I thought as I swept up the broken china.

Someday.

Chapter Two

Jake

I pulled on my borrowed tie and swilled another gulp of the watered down bourbon. I stared balefully around the Gold Room at the country club my father and brothers belonged to. All the Delancey men had belonged here in fact, going back three generations.

All except me.

God, I hated this place.

Not only was it filled with ostentatious, rich, privileged old bastards but, even worse, the food sucked. It did have decent bourbon though. If only I could get someone to give it to me straight.

Someone must have warned them about the youngest Delancey brother.

Everybody around here knew who I was. I had a reputation for being bad. Not that I gave a shit what any of these rich fucks thought of me.

It's not that I wasn't allowed at the club. I just wasn't allowed without supervision. Not since the last time. I'd only been twelve years old at the time, but that was old enough to sneak behind the bar and steal a bottle of booze. I'd drank the whole damn thing with my brothers Daniel and Jackson.

We'd all gotten too drunk to walk straight but I'd been the one who drove the golf cart straight through the front window of the pro shop. I'd been the one who caused Daniel to break his arm in the crash. And I'd been the one who was shipped off to military school.

What a laugh. That place taught you discipline sure, but only by learning how to take a beating. Or worse. Thankfully I'd been more than ready and willing to fight back. I'd left almost the instant I turned eighteen- the day of graduation. And that was only because my mother had begged me to finish.

Even I couldn't turn down a woman who was dying.

I snapped back to the present with a jolt

My brother Daniel was asking me something. I tore my eyes away from the girl I'd been watching since we walked in. It wasn't easy to do.

'Beautiful' didn't even start to do her justice. The girl was brimming with energy and magnetism. She knew it too.

I could tell that from just from looking at her.

"What?"

"I said, are you back to stay? We could really use the help now that Dad's-"

"Shut up Daniel."

I rolled my eyes at my eldest brother Jackson. Of course they weren't keeping me in the loop. I wasn't one of them any more. I hadn't been since that day they let me take all the heat fifteen years before.

Besides, I wanted to go back to looking at
her.

I'd been staring at the waitress all night. Jesus, I'd never seen anything like her. Those huge green eyes, the startlingly pretty face, the lips. Never mind the jet-black hair, porcelain skin, legs that went on forever.

It was the voice that I hadn't been able to get out of my mind.

Husky and rich but utterly feminine. And with an Irish lilt that was somehow lyrical, soothing, and arousing. All at the same time.

I felt like I was tied up in knots, and I hadn't even taken the time yet to really check out those magnificent tits of hers.

Eleanor.

That's what her name tag said.

Unfortunately she had disappeared from the room again. Presumably to work, but it felt like she was hiding to annoy me. I shut my eyes, trying to conjure her up again. I could bear my brother's pompous yammering if I had something good to look at.

Not good. A-fucking-mazing.

Fuck it, might as well go and find her
.

"I need another drink."

Jackson put his hand out to stop me.

"I think you've had enough Jake."

I shook his hand off with a sneer.

"Nice try brother. I don't take orders from anyone, least of all you."

I stood and walked toward the back of the room. That's where she kept disappearing to. The staff was probably having a party back here. That's what I would do if I worked here. Laughing at the rich people's expense.

Lord knows we deserved it.

I stumbled a bit on the downward slope of the hallway leading into the bowels of the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. It must be where they rolled out the trash. I peeked into several storage rooms but didn't see her so I kept going. At last I pushed open a doorway and was confronted with fresh air and the smell of-

Smoke.

I was about to turn around when I saw her.

There she was, about ten feet away. She was palming a smoke in the back alleyway behind the club.

"Here kitty kitty kitty kitty."

She lifted her face. She looked annoyed at the interruption. More than annoyed. Pissed. But Goddamn if she didn't look stunningly beautiful all the same.

"I'm not a damn cat."

I grinned at her, leaning against the wall.

"I know that."

She rolled her eyes at me, taking a drag of her smoke.

"What do you want then?"

I grinned at her happily. Just being out here talking to her was more excitement than I'd had in weeks. Months. Maybe even years.

Up close she was even prettier than I'd thought.

Too pretty almost. And full of piss and vinegar apparently.